


ring the bells that can still ring

by ace_corvid



Category: BNA: Brand New Animal (Anime)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Post-Canon, Pseudo Deity acquires a Teenager, Rated teen for language, Really just mentions of it but I'm being safe, Shirou didn't sign up for this, Slice of Life, The family you choose, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i love them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25129198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_corvid/pseuds/ace_corvid
Summary: After 1000 years, a person's memory tends to get pretty foggy.Shirou is completely sure though, that he never once in his extemely long life, intended to acquire a teenager.(Michiru isn't going home just yet. Guess that means she'll have to make a new one.)
Relationships: Kagemori Michiru & Ogami Shirou
Comments: 178
Kudos: 761
Collections: BNA Comfort





	1. forget your perfect offering

**Author's Note:**

> didn't intend to like this show. definitely didn't intend to like it enough to write something for it.  
> and yet here we are. i fucking love this show guys. oh my god. oh my GOD.  
> please take this offering and forgive me for not spending long enough learning how to write the chatacters properly but i love them. christ.
> 
> this is the first part of 3! no promises for when the next part will be out because my writing sechedule is hectic as all hell, but hopefully should be soon.
> 
> title from leonard cohen's "anthem".

1000 years was a long time to be alive. No one knew that better than Ogami Shirou.

The passing of the years changed the way he thought, how his brain worked. After all, the average mortal cannot hope to hold millennium in their heads, and so the brain adapted. It was neither a good nor a bad change, just survival. But the more years that went by, the less he felt like himself. Emotions dulled, and memories slipped through his fingers.

Memories were mist-like things; sometimes impossible to hold on to, often times harder to let go. The faces of the few friends he'd had over time were fuzzed, the warmth of the memory bittered by a dreamlike haze smothering the clarity. And yet still, an insurmountable, insufferable amount of time long gone by later, the rotten stench of the blood of his clan heavy on his paws still remained.

He recalled the tragedy with regularity even now, in both nightmares and daylight. The way he'd howled and roared and cried for his lost brethren rang in his ears, he felt how he'd tried to cover his snout with his paws to block the scents they'd left behind, and could almost feel the ghost of his fear and confusion in the face of becoming an ethereal-like thing. Waking up after dying, the lone survivor who hadn't even survived. A shadow of his former self, but larger still than he'd ever been before.

And yet he still couldn't remember the exact thought he'd had in that moment, and in many moments after. He knew the gist of it, of course; revenge, revenge, fuck humans, revenge, etcetera etcetera. And then, much later; protect all of beastmen kind, no matter the cost. But what exactly was going through his head was lost on even him.

He was pretty sure he'd literally never planned to somehow pick up a teenager though.

Much less one that wasn't even biologically his. He still wasn't sure how he'd even managed it, to be perfectly honest. But over the course of his stupidly long life, he'd learnt the intricacies and intimacies of his instincts, and how to trust them. And every instinct he had screamed that this dumb child was his to protect.

Not that he'd ever admit it.

“Kagemori Michiru cannot live on her own, you know. She needs a legal guardian, as per the laws of Anima City. ” Mayor Rose smiled knowingly. They both knew exactly what she was implying, but he couldn't say he appreciated the conspiratorial glances she kept sending him. He could see the amusement dancing in her eyes. She was most definitely enjoying this, and she knew him much too well for him to be comfortable with it.

“Why exactly are you telling me this?” Shirou griped, because he was an asshole, and he wasn't going down that easily.

“Well I was under the impression you'd been acting as her primary caretaker.” The mayor smoothly replied, looking completely unruffled.

He hummed non-committally.

“That, and it's evident you have a fondness for her.”

Oh for fucks sake. Sometimes the words out of her mouth were like knives. Really annoying knives.

“Untrue.” He snapped out of habit. Caring about people who were going to die when you weren't only got you hurt. And it would hurt even when you couldn't even recall the shape of their face 200 years later. It wasn't worth it.

“Oh?” She raised her eyebrow, completely unimpressed with him. “I suppose she'll have to be a ward of the city then. At her age, it's unlikely she'll find a foster parent. Maybe it would just be better to contact her parents. She is a runaway, technically.”

He stayed silent for all of 50 seconds. It's a bad idea, but he's getting soft in his old age it seems.

“...Send me the paperwork.”

  
  


That's the beginning of the end for him, really.

Michiru keeps her room at the co-op, because she'd already moved in after she first got here, and Shirou lived in the building anyway. Apparently, she hadn't even known he lived there, and was amusedly surprised. He showed her where his apartment was, and told her to come by if she needed anything. As much as the tanuki kid needed constant supervision, that was more due to her general personality and habitual propensity for trouble; she was still 16 and knew how to live independently. Shirou wasn't a damn nanny. She could take care of herself.

And yet, despite this, she still kept finding her way into his apartment anyway.

“I'm lonely.” had been one excuse.

“I'm bored.” she had smiled when she'd knocked on his door, before dragging him out to practice basketball.

“You have 1000 years of culinary experience. I have 3 months. Shut up.” She'd said, eating his noodles. He'd wanted those noodles.

No one had told him that acquiring a teenager meant that she was going to eat him out of house and home. Nowhere in his kitchen was safe. Neither was his futon, which she had commandeered for herself. Often times, she'd stay up late into the night watching his television, and then just sleep on his couch, not even bothering to go back to her own room.

Her scent lingered all over the apartment, so much so that it was beginning to fade into the background, sinking into the furniture and becoming commonplace.

She even borrowed his shower so much that she had brought a bottle of her shampoo in there. But then proceeded to steal Shirou's conditioner until he just bought her her own bottle to keep in the bathroom. It didn't have the artificial scents that human products used, since they irritated his nose something, but apparently it was supposed to naturally smell like flowers. Teenage girls liked smelling of flowers, right?

It didn't matter in the end. She continued to use his anyway. He didn't know why he tried.

“Why?” He questioned, throwing the empty bottle of his conditioner at her. Being as athletic as she was, Michiru caught it easily, but still gave him the most dramatically offended glare she could muster.

“I don't know.” She shrugged, a little tense. Interesting. In turn, he raised his eyebrow and simply stared until she slumped and continued. “I really don't know, ok? I have all of these new instincts and no idea what to do with them. It's hard. The conditioner smells like you, and it's comforting. I have no clue why, it just does.”

She looks almost pathetic, hunched in on herself and off-putting unconfident. It's not pathetic though, not even pitiable. Just sad. It's strange to see; she's usually so sure of herself. He doesn't like it, and a strange urge to comfort her rises in his chest.

He strangles it down mercilessly. Then he nods, walking away, keeping a sharp eye on her to make sure she loosens up a little.

Next time he shops, he buys two bottles of the same. She doesn't exactly thank him, but Michiru does leave a cupcake out for him on his table (the table she eats at every night).

  
  


By the time she stops using her own shampoo too, he's already given in.

“Thieving tanuki.” He flicks her on the nose. She pretends to look outraged, but it's more clear on her face that she's surprised he's teasing her.

“Stingy wolf.” She sticks her tongue out, before hopping onto his couch to watch brightly coloured cartoons he couldn't even try to name.

It feels far too natural for his liking, but he doesn't do much more than huff good naturedly.

Growing softer indeed.

It's not all sappy and domestic.

“You were a student before you ran away, weren't you?” Shirou asks her one day, even though he already knows the answer. He just wants to ease her into what he really wants to talk about, what will surely be an uncomfortable conversation. Until now, he'd been waiting for her to bring it up herself, but it was clear she wasn't really going to. Meaning it fell to him.

“Yup.” Michiru nods, looking up from her phone with the same energy she approaches everything else with. Which is to say, far too much energy.

“How would you feel about continuing your education?”

She stills. Shirou, a thousand year old pseudo-deity, tries not to fidget.

“Like,” She says slowly, like she's trying to parse it out. “At a school in Anima City?”

“Considering you live here now.” He snarks, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn't seem to alleviate any of the stress evident in her body. If anything, she tenses even more. Nice one, Shirou.

“I- uh.” Michiru fumbles. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Shirou tries to sound prompting rather than judgemental, but he's been judging people for a thousand years. He fails pretty spectacularly.

“I think.” She begins to say, and then pauses for a considerable amount of time before speaking again. “I think that if I started going to school in Anima City it would be...”

She visibly grapples with her wording. Shirou isn't quite sure where she's going with this.

“You don't have to.” Shirou guesses.

“It's not that I don't want to.” She quickly refutes. “It's just that I feel like that would be like accepting that my old life is completely gone.”

Wherein lies the crux of the issue; her old life is already gone. She's not talked with any of her old friends barring Nazuna, she's living in a different city, she's not even human anymore. She's adjusted abnormally well to having her world practically torn apart, so it's not surprising that there would be some issues with it. She's clinging to the edges of what's left; like her old school.

“It wouldn't be any more gone than it already is.” He says, which does not sounds as supportive as it did in his head.

“Yeah, I guess.” She nervously rubs her arms together, but the action is absent, like she doesn't even realise she's doing it. It seems to comfort her just about as much as his words did. “But I don't know. New school. New friends. New pare-”

She cuts herself off and blushes profusely.

“New...?” Shirou is so confused. He doesn't have the life experience for a teenager, and he's a 1000 years old.

“Nothing, nothing.” She shakes her head. “It'll just feel real, you know?”

And of course he knows. He remembers the denial of his entire family being dead all too well. Remembers the no, no of being drenched in their blood. Remembers begging the Gods to let him die with them, and forget it ever happened.

The Gods didn't answer, and somewhere along the way he became one instead.

So yeah, he knows denial pretty well. He also knows that after denial, the only thing that can really come next is acceptance.

“You don't want to fall behind, do you?” He queries, and Michiru looks conflicted.

“No.” She answers quietly, like she's expecting this to be the part where he tells her to go anyway. To get over it, because she's not even human anymore, she chose this, of course her old life is gone. But he gets it nonetheless. So he says;-

“We'll sign you up for online classes then.”

Her eyes brighten as she looks to him in surprise, and before he even knows it, she's hugging him as tightly as she can repeating 'thank you' like a mantra. She sounds excited, but he doesn't have to have super senses to hear the underlying relief in her tone.

Michiru's stuff is all over his apartment.

Her hairbrush is in the bathroom near the mirror. Her magazines are littered all over. There's a basketball by the door, and her charger never leaves the best socket in the house. She's shed all over his sofa, and her clothes are in his washing machine. He borrowed Melissa's pull out bed and set it up in his study for her, since it was more comfortable than the couch.

Not to mention it's common to find Michiru herself sat on any free surface in the apartment.

“Do you not think you should tidy your things up a little?” He pointedly asks one evening. The items become neater, something of a more organized chaos, but they still don't leave his home. She still has shirts stowed away in his drawers. She still brings her friends over from time to time. There are still dishes she's eaten from by the sink.

She's fallen into an easy routine lately, settling down now she's a little more comfortable in her new skin. Michiru wakes up and does her classes on Shirou's laptop, and then goes to work with Mayor Rose on her new plans on the city, lending the invaluable insight of a human turned beastman. There's talk of giving her an official position, like ambassador to the humans, to act as a liaison when humans are welcomed into the city. And then she comes home to his apartment. He barely even sees her in her old place any more.

One evening, he runs into Melissa. She'd assumed a temporary guardianship of Nazuna, as per Michiru's request, so she'd been busy sorting that out lately, and they haven't seen much of each other. They exchange as much of the pleasantries as Shirou can stomach, which isn't saying much, before she asks him if he's going to put Michiru's name on his lease any time soon.

“Just for the legality, Ogami.” She adds, and smiles at him warmly, but he's too busy being extremely confused to appreciate it.

“Michiru doesn't live with me.” He states, blinking slowly. Now Melissa is the one that looks confused.

“She's always in your apartment.”

“I'm her legal guardian.”

“Doesn't she sleep there?”

“Some nights.”

“Don't you cook all of her meals? Doesn't she shower there?”

“Well, I- yes.”

Melissa transfixes him with a stare he can feel in his soul. Like she's seeing right through him. She raises an eyebrow, and looks up as if she's praying for guidance. Knowing what religion she follows though, somehow Shirou doesn't think she's going to get much help from the Silver Wolf, for the obvious reasons.

“Honey, she's moved in. All of her things are at your place. Her old apartment is essentially empty. Fill in these papers and add her to your lease already.” It doesn't seem like she's going to take no for an answer.

He walks back to his apartment absolutely dumbfounded. Michiru is sat on the couch, tail swaying from side to side, studying with all of her papers spread out onto the table. She looks up from absent mindedly chewing her pen and smiles, her tail unconsciously moving more excitably.

“You're home!” She beams.

And he is home. He has no idea when it became hers, though.

Looking around, Melissa was right. Everything she owns is in his apartment now. Literally everything. A not insignificant amount of people consider him a literal God, and he can't even notice that a child has infested his house. Unbelievable.

“Get the rest of your stuff from your old apartment.” He sighs. “You're on the lease now you thieving tanuki.”

“I haven't stolen anything, I live here! You can't call me thieving!” She pokes him in the chest, like he's supposed to care.

“You've stolen my peace and quiet.” He says, and she rolls her eyes. “We'll go furniture shopping for you tomorrow, so think about how you want to redecorate the study.”

“Don't you need the study?”

“Have you ever seen me in there before? There's your answer.” He growls a little impatiently

She shrugs, making a face like she's trying not to smile, before running to retrieve the rest of her stuff.

This had definitely not been in the plan.

The next day, he keeps his word and takes her out shopping for some furniture. Their outings are common enough, seeing as she's taken to following him around and putting herself in danger when he's working, but shopping is new and uncharted territory. She's never even followed him to get groceries before.

She picks a simple bed frame and modest chest of drawers simply, he suspects because they're the cheapest. He tells her to just get what she likes because he's been saving for 1000 years, but she just pushes him on the shoulder and laughs at him, shaking her head.

“Seriously. You didn't seem to have any problem putting that SIM card on my tab.” He grouches.

“That's different.” Michiru whines. “Just forget about it ok?”

“You're not imposing you know.” He tries to say it casually, but gets the feeling he fails miserably. He's very familiar with failing miserably. “I knew what I was doing when I agreed to be your caretaker.”

“Ah, but I know you're a stingy wolf, Shirou, it's ok.” She giggles, but he understands what she's really saying. Don't push me on this.

“Better a stingy wolf than a thieving tanuki.” He replies idly, with absolutely no bite to it and the beginnings of a smile playing across his face. She pushes at him again, harder this time, laughing through the faux offence. He nudges her back, and at least convinces her to buy some posters for the walls.

She didn't take anything with her from home when she ran away, and Marie took a big chunk of her savings getting her to Anima City. As a result, Michiru doesn't have much to her name, barely anything familiar to her but the clothes on her back. He doesn't mind springing a little so that Anima City starts feeling a little bit more like home to her. It stands to reason that someone who gets into so much trouble needs somewhere they can always feel safe.

And so his study, now Michiru's room, becomes an obnoxious pink.

“My room, my rules.” Michiru smirks.

Shirou supposes he'll just have to live with it.

Despite having her own room, Michiru still claims the sofa as her own.

“I've missed so much TV since running away!” She explained, bright eyed and bushy tailed. “Now that everything has calmed down, I can catch up!”

Well, that's fair enough. She's flying through her classes; she's got to have something to do. May as well be TV.

“What do you usually watch on TV, Shirou?” Her smile would be infectious were he the smiling type. As it is, his eyes just soften.

“I usually don't watch anything.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“Call me old fashioned,” He deadpanned. “But I prefer to read.”

“I feel like that's a boring use of immortality.” She wrinkled her nose.

“I spent most of my life hunting down people to kill and hating humans, Michiru. I was uninterested in TV then, I'm uninterested now.” He sighs like he's tired, but the conversation is hardly draining him.

“Well maybe you can sit here and watch my show with me and see how you like it.” She offers, swinging her legs around to tuck into the side instead of taking up the entire couch.

“Are you generously allowing me to sit on my own couch?” He snarks back, pulling a book off the shelf and lightly bopping her on the head with it.

“I can't believe you've tricked everyone into thinking you're a boring sour wolf.” She laughs, pretending to pout. “You can be pretty funny sometimes.”

“Untrue. I dropped my humour sometime in the middle ages.”

“See! If I told anyone you said that, they wouldn't believe me.” She accuses, pointing at him dramatically, doing her usual spiel of making a fuss over nothing. It's nearly endearing at this point, having grown on him like moss.

“Good.”

“Just sit down and watch TV with me would you?” She tilts her head and attempts puppy dog eyes. Tanuki's being raccoon dogs, she does an alright job, but he's seen better. Still, instead of voicing that, he settles down next to her mound of cushions and blankets and pointedly opens his book.

He doesn't really pay attention, as distracting as the bright flashing colours and upbeat music are. It's pretty easy to drown it out and focus on his book, so he lets himself get lost in the words. They settle into an amicable atmosphere that could maybe be called domestic.

Around an hour or two later, when he looks up, his TV is asking him if he's still watching, and Michiru hasn't clicked the remote to say yes. It's about then that he realises there's a slight pressure on his shoulder.

Michiru has fallen asleep on him.

His first instinct is to push her off, but some part of him doesn't want to wake her. He painstakingly decides to just leave her where he is.

He should have felt it the minute she put her head on his shoulder. Should have heard her breathing even out the minute she fell asleep. But he didn't. He completely let his guard down, and that shakes him to his core. The wolf in him is panicking. Anything could have happened while he wallowed in this thin veneer of safety.

But nothing did happen. Michiru just fell asleep on him. So he tries to get his brain to shut up and goes back to reading, trying to fall back out of his usual state of hypervigilance. Breathes and closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down.

Then he wakes up next to her on the couch the next morning, Michiru not having moved since last night. She'll have a crick in her neck when she wakes up, and she'll more than likely complain about it over breakfast.

He stands up, settles her in a comfier position, throws a blanket over her and sets out to quietly make breakfast without waking her. She never has to know she fell asleep on him, never has to know that he fell asleep next to her too. He just hopes she didn't wake up in the night and see.

“Hey.” Michiru asks at breakfast. “Do beastmen like... have pets?”

“...What?” He replies, so tired and so done with this line of questioning already.

“We're technically animals right? So are pets like... ethical?” She waves her hands in a funny gesture as she speaks, as if it's helping her explain anything. It isn't.

“We're more genetically similar to humans than to fauna, though for our specific fauna it's generally 75/25.” He dutifully repeats, having heard this fact so many times throughout his life. He thinks personally that Michiru and Nazuna are different, but they haven't ran any tests of their own yet, Nazuna being distinctly uncomfortable every time it's brought up.

“So we can have pets?” She cautiously questions. He knows where she's going with this, but he answers truthfully anyway. It's not like he has trouble saying no.

“It's hardly a common practice, but it's not outlawed.”

She shovels in a couple of mouthfuls of her pancakes while Shirou abandons his oatmeal to pointedly stare at her until she asks what he knows she's going to ask. May as well get it over with.

“...Can we get a dog?”

“Absolutely not.”

It's not that Shirou doesn't have nightmares all that often anymore. He does. It's just that after 1000 years they've began to run out of material that he's not pretty much desensitized to.

In the beginning, they were rife and left him screaming and stricken, prompted by grief and trauma and a thirst for revenge beating in his heart, with the blood of his kin flowing in his veins. The contents warped and changed until every possible horror had been splayed before his eyes (none more horrible than living it ever could be).

But time heals all wounds, and eventually the night terrors that woke him screaming began to taper off. He never slept peacefully, but rarely he remembered his dreams. The bloody marks he made in his skin when he dug his nails into his flesh disappeared pretty much immediately too.

That's not to say that nightmares that did affect him ever stopped happening, or that they ever would, though.

This time, the dreamscape is different.

There's still the smell of blood, no doubt about it. He'd know it anywhere. But he's not in Nirvasyl, and it isn't it's people who have been murdered.

Michiru lies before him. Dead. He killed her. In the throes of Nirvasyl Syndrome. He could feel her flesh on his teeth, and he's drenched in blood. Why is it always fucking blood? Nazuna is crying, clutching Michiru and shaking her as if to wake her up. But Michiru isn't going to wake up, because she's dead. Nazuna's eyes scream that he's a monster, and Shirou can't disagree. He killed her. She's dead.

He bolts awake, not screaming, but breathing fitfully, panicking. And there Michiru stands in front of him, whole and alive. She lived, and she'd saved him, no matter what the horrors of his mind like to imagine. Just seeing her chest rise and fall with breath calms him.

“Sorry.” She whispers, clutching at his arm. “I heard you shouting. I think you were having a nightmare.”

He nods, and returns her touch, grounding himself as he grips her arm. He's mindful of his strength, careful not to bruise. He'd hurt her enough for one lifetime.

“Thank you.” He grinds out, throat hoarse from yelling in his sleep. “But I'm fine. You should go back to bed.”

She hesitates. He can't fathom why.

Then she slowly but surely wraps her arms around him in a hug, giving him every opportunity to tell her to stop. He can't think why he doesn't. But he lets her hold him, and even though he can hear her heartbeat across the room, the reassurance that she's alive beating against his chest is infinitely calming. He doesn't hug her back, because he'll never be that kind of person, he doesn't think. But he doesn't stop her either, and that's more than he's allowed in a long, long time.

“My parents always used to hug me after nightmares.” They don't talk about Michiru's parents. It speaks volumes that she's even bringing it up. “I thought it might make you feel better too.”

“Go to bed, Michiru.” He doesn't acknowledge the hug, and he thinks she understands not to push. She doesn't say anything else before running out of the room.

He sleeps soundly for the rest of the night.

They ignore it in the morning, but Shirou has always been the determined sort. She mentioned her parents last night, so she brought this on herself, really. Perhaps he can endeavour to annoy her for once. That'd be a change.

“I made you some tea.” He says, placing the cup gently next to her. She smiles gratefully, and he waits until she's drinking it to ask;-

“Have you considered going to visit your parents?”

She spits out the tea all over his table. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get a little satisfaction from it.

“My parents?” Michiru sounds a little panicked as she replies. He raises an eyebrow, and she flushes.

“Yes. You ran away because of your 'beastman disease' didn't you? Not because of them.” He asks. She nods, her mouth down turning. “Do you miss them?”

“Yeah. Of course I miss them.” Her tail is slightly puffed up, and her voice is sad. “But visiting them would be dangerous. Beastmen hunters still camp around the borders.”

“You live with the Silver Wolf, protector of all beastmen.” He reminds her, because the excuse is flimsy at best. “Do you think I'm going to let anything happen to you?”

“Of course not.” Her hackles rise. “I just didn't think you'd want anything to do with the human world.”

“Anima City is only ten years old, you know. I lived there for a long time.” He readily disputes. “So do you want to make the trip?”

She doesn't answer. She knows she's been caught out.

“No, of course you don't.” He tells her, raising an eyebrow. “Because you haven't even so much as called them, and beastmen hunters can't camp phone lines.”

“I wanted to wait until I had everything figured out.”

“One could argue that you do. Don't you think they're worried?”

“I left a note.” She snaps, but she's obviously unsure of herself.

“Michiru-”

“I know it's selfish, ok?” She nearly yells. Shirou blinks, slightly surprised. “But you don't get it. Your entire life, you've been only one thing! I've been torn between worlds. And I'm dealing with it by keeping them separate, ok? There's before, and after, and I decided I wasn't going to go back to how I was before, and I stand by it but-”

She cuts herself off, anger draining out of her like water in a sink as she curls into herself.

“As it is, I've got a foot in each world. I'm human, but beastman. Kagemori Michiru, but not. Mixing them together would be... I don't know. How many of my friends would see me differently? How much love would I find to be conditional when I don't fit their conditions any more?”

“Not dealing with it will get you nowhere.”

“You think I don't know that? My worlds are gonna collide eventually, it's unavoidable. But it doesn't have to happen yet. I just need to get used to the idea. Maybe that's selfish, making them wait when I know they're worried. But if they look at me differently, and I'm not prepared, I don't know if I could take it.”

She looks so frightened. She didn't look like the girl who screamed that she didn't care what anyone thought, that she was going to choose for herself. Ever since he'd met her, she'd been steadfast in her ideals, not willing to budge for anything or anyone. She didn't look like that now. She looked like a kid. A kid staring at a world that would hate her for who she was in the face. And she was blinking.

“Okay.” He agrees easily.

“Okay?” She blinks bewildered, completely thrown off.

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay!” She says it like she's trying to convince herself, pushing herself up from the table and doing her best to look assured, but then falters. “Why is it okay, exactly?”

“All I want is for beastmen to be happy. If you think it'll be better in the long run if you do this, then I'll let you. You know exactly what I think of humans, and that's what your parents are, right? You're my priority.”

It isn't the last they'll see of this issue, not by a long shot. But it's not like he has any idea what to do in this situation either, so he'll just have to trust Michiru's judgement on this one.

It's a rare thing these days, not knowing how to do something, or what to do. 1000 years, and it's a teenager that stumps him. Ridiculous.

“So she's moved in?” Mayor Rose smiles. Shirou glares back.

“What about it?” He growls out, but that hasn't worked on her in a long time. Her smile only deepens in the face of it, because now she knows she's got him on the defensive about it, which is basically an admittance. They've been playing this game for a long time.

“Oh, nothing. Kagemori is shaping up to be a fine young girl. She'll no doubt be a very influential beastman some day. You're doing a good job with her.” She says breezily, happy to let the implications in the words speak for themselves.

“I think you'll find that was her parents.” He bristles.

“Ah yes, perhaps.” Her smile is so smug. It didn't used to be that smug. “But I daresay her mentor has had a positive impact on her too.”

“'Mentor' implies that she listens enough for me to have taught her anything.” Mayor Rose's eyes flick over to him as he said that, and it's pretty clear she's laughing at him. She's always like this when there isn't a crisis she's asking him to solve.

“I'd argue that she's learnt a lot.”

“By her own virtue. You're giving me too much credit, and you're not giving her enough.”

“Well, consider me told.” The mayor laughs, eyes sharpening on Shirou in a way that's always made him feel like prey. It's very disconcerting, since he's meant to be, you know, a predator. Wolf and all that. “I have to say, you're a very proud father, Shirou. I wouldn't have expected that from you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I'm calling you a dad, Shirou.” She says very seriously, but her eyes are playful. “You're a dad now.”

“I'm not a fucking dad. I'm leaving.”

“Yes, you should probably go home to your daughter.”

“She's not my-!”

“So,” Officer Tachiki looks uncharacteristically mischievous. “How's your daughter, Ogami?”

“I do not have a daughter.” Shirou sighs. It's going to be a long week, but it's been a longer life. Fuck, he needs a rest.

Nazuna and Michiru are making a mess in his kitchen. They're calling it 'baking'; he'd call it committing atrocities towards beastkind, though. He stops and stares as he walks through the door, and both of them freeze like they've been caught in trouble. There's cake batter splattered up the walls, so that's not an unfair assumption.

“Next time,” He points at them. “You do this in Melissa's kitchen.”

They both blink owlishly, and Michiru's mouth falls open. She really hasn't been living with him long enough if she hasn't figured out his secret petty streak yet.

“You're cleaning this up yourselves.” He says, and is content to leave it at that. Of course Michiru will probably do an ok job at cleaning, but there will no doubt be something Shirou has to do later. For now though, he's content to just pick up a book and try to tune out the girls causing chaos in his kitchen.

But then, of course, Nazuna opens her mouth.

“You didn't say he was a cool dad, Michiru.” She teases, elbowing her playfully. Michiru turns bright red, which is quite a feat in her tanuki form. Across the room from them, Shirou isn't sure what face he makes, but he definitely makes one. He knows this because Nazuna is pointing and laughing at him.

Why does everyone suddenly think he's Michiru's god damn father figure? She has a dad. Who, yeah, she refuses to call, but he's her dad, who isn't in any way him. He is her temporary guardian. He doesn't harbour any paternal feelings at all, not least towards her. Why does this keep happening?

“Hey, I'm going to hang out with the baseball team.” Michiru tells him, shifting her arms into wings as she does. She's about to fly off the balcony when Shirou realises he still needs to talk to her.

What happens next is pure instinct.

He grabs her by the scruff of the neck.

Like she's a damn pup or something.

See this is the problem with being a pseudo-deity. Everyone prays to him when shit goes wrong, but who the fuck is he supposed to pray to, huh? Who can he look to for help and guidance? Some higher power out there must know he needs it. But no, he's all on his own.

All the same, he's never been in a situation he couldn't get through by being stubborn, detached, and slightly bullheaded (or whatever the wolf version of bullheaded is). So he elects to ignore it, despite the fact that he's still holding her by the scruff.

This is what she gets for always being in tanuki form anyway; he wouldn't be able to do this if she were human. They stare at each other for an uncomfortable second, Michiru looking distinctly panicked. He just shrugs. If she'd grown up as a beastman, this would be normal to her.

“You're supposed to be meeting Mayor Rose later.” He reminds her, and she scrunches up her nose.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” She admits, still looking flustered. He finally drops her, and she stumbles before righting herself. “I'll remember to be back before then. Are you dropping me off?”

“I can if you want me to.” He cocks his head to the side. Something about it is distinctly dog-like, making Michiru giggle.

“Sure! You can drop me off later then.”

It isn't until about half an hour later that he realises that she is definitely going to ask Mayor Rose about the scruff thing, because they both like to ignore their issues instead of talking about them. And Mayor Rose is most definitely going to tell her exactly what it means. And Mayor Rose is without a doubt never going to let him live this down.

Grabbing kids by their scruff is something parents do. And he did it on instinct.

Ok. It's possible there are some parental feelings involved.

Fuck.


	2. there's a crack in everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They ignore it. 
> 
> Of course they do. They're not the type to talk things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello hey!! thank u for being so patient with the wait and i really hope y'all enjoy this new chapter!! im completely and utterly blown away by the response this got; i rlly wasnt expecting much and i am just honesty amazed and i cant thank u enough <3 every comment and kudos has meant so much to me you can't imagine
> 
> also PLEASE take a look at this [gorgeous fanart](https://twitter.com/Lagt32635680/status/1283150006829166593) the lovely lagt drew for the last scene in the first chapter, its beautiful and i nearly cried <3
> 
> so with all that said, i hope this chapter meets your expectations, and please enjoy it!!  
> chapter title is again from leonard cohen's anthem

They ignore it.

Of course they do. They're not the type to talk things out.

Michiru is a teenager, but she's a smart one when she wants to be. She talks loudly about problems that don't really matter to her, to distract people from the ones that do. She'll practically yell about Shirou for spending too long showering in the morning (in his own apartment, mind), because she knows that he'll roll his eyes and they'll spend the rest of the morning watching random reruns of Naruto. And that'll be that.

Shirou's not sure why it bothers him, really. It's not like he wants to talk about this any more than she does. So he pushes down his feelings in a well practised manner, and he pointedly doesn't ask if Michiru wants to call her parents today.

And he _definitely_ doesn't ask her if she considers him to be one.

Even as an immortal, Shirou has trouble staring eternity in the face, sometimes.

It's hardly as if he's older than sin. The earth is older than anyone breathing will ever be able to comprehend, and what is a thousand years, in the face of that? What's a thousand more? Shirou is more than aware his life span does not scratch the surface of time; that's not what scares him.

What truly scares him is, what if it's not a thousand more? What if it's ten thousand? A hundred thousand, if the earth even lasts that long? Will he have to see the world end? He's not sure how many more thousands he can live just to get there- Just the one had taken it's due toll.

Shirou cannot stand the idea of forever, but he has to. That's how long he's supposed to live, after all, and he doesn't get much choice in the matter.

There's not a lot he can do except hope he doesn't.

Michiru lies asleep on the couch, breathing steady and healthy. Assuming the worst doesn't happen, and it always does with Shirou involved, Michiru has a long life ahead of her. And again, assuming Shirou doesn't ruin this, he will more than likely see all of it.

He'll have to see her frail and wrinkled, who she is now echoed in the wear and tear of time. He'll have to see her struggle to breath, fight her body to walk, fail to eat on her own, if she makes it that long. He'll have to see her suffer. He'll have to see her die.

How long will he remember her face? It doesn't matter how important it is, he knows he'll forget. Like he forgot his mother's, his father's, his sister's, his brother's. He does not even remember the name of the first person he killed, and he can't recall his birthday. If asked, he says he is 1000 years, because it feels about right, and he thinks it vaguely historically lines up, but truth is, he couldn't say for sure.

There isn't much time doesn't take from him.

That's how he knows this won't last. Trying to play happy families? It's unfathomable, and worse, it's cruel. Any family he tries to make, he will outlive them all, and he'll have to watch them turn to dust, and he will not even be able to honour them by knowing their faces in two hundred years time.

The others, they laugh about it. They think that he's reluctant to be some kind of father figure because of his prickly personality, his rough disposition, but that's never been the case. It's because no matter how much he forgets of them, he'll always remember having them. And the pain of losing them is not one easily alleviated.

He even mourns the memory of his own face, any recollection of a younger version of himself lost to time, always static in the mirror. He has looked the same for a thousand years, and he will for a thousand more. He doesn't want it, but when has he ever had a choice?

He never wanted immortality, and he doesn't want it still. He never wanted a child either, careful to never father any over millennia. Funny, how it's the latter he's warming up to as time wiles by, and it's the latter that is bound to break.

“Don't say a word.” He growls at Mayor Rose.

She obliges, but she looks impeccably smug and it's almost worse that if she just outright laughed at him. For all her intelligence, she doesn't understand, but then, he never expected her to.

He'll let her have her humour.

More often than not, he's actually got _two_ unruly teenagers running around his home, which is two more than he's ever wanted or needed. All the same, there they are.

They don't even have the common decency to restrict themselves to being one animal; they shed hair, feathers, fur, whatever suits them. They track in mud, they make a mess. Most of the time they do in fact pick up after themselves, but Shirou misses the novelty of being able to come home to a clean apartment.

He walks through the door, and is surprised by this being the case.

The two girls are simply sat on the couch, playing some strange video game. Michiru looks up beaming as he walks in, and Shirou swallows down the feelings that arise in his chest at that.

“Hey Shirou!” She sounds so excited to see him, and he still can't figure out why.

“Shirou.” Nazuna smirks in greeting. Foxes, he thinks blithely to himself.

“Hi girls.” He sighs, setting down his bags, Kuro still perched on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Playing Animal Crossing.” Michiru shrugs. Shirou doesn't admit that he did in fact recognise the cute little tune.

“And you've done all your classwork?” He tries not to sound accusing but at this point it's an exercise in futility. That's just his voice. Michiru knows this now though, and no offence works it's way onto her face. One of the little understandings they have between them that makes Shirou's heart ache.

“Sure have.”

“Good.” He smiles and it's genuine, making Michiru puff up proudly. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Hmm. What have you got?” She asks without looking up from the screen, where she's hopping across a river to plant flowers.

“I was thinking of doing chicken katsu.” Shirou says. “With yaki udon, or tsukemen.”

“Sounds good, but I want miso soup too!” Michiru declares, putting her controller on the table and getting up to help, but not turning off the game. The music continues in the background. “Can Nazuna stay for dinner?”

She asks as if Nazuna hasn't stayed for dinner more here than she has at her own house in the last two weeks.

“No.” He deadpans, flicking Michiru on the nose. “In fact, I'm suddenly turning you both out onto the streets.”

“You'd never, stingy wolf.” She teases easily in return, while Nazuna looks unsure on the couch. Shirou takes pity on her.

“Of course I would.” Shirou turns up his nose to hide his smile. “But not today. Of course Nazuna can stay, if she wishes.”

Michiru laughs like there wasn't any doubt. Which is fair. There really wasn't.

“Thank you, Shirou. Sorry for the intrusion.” Nazuna perks up from the couch.

“There is no intrusion.” Shirou says simply. “Is there anything in particular you'd like for dinner?”

“Do you have kani salad?” Nazuna asks a little sheepishly, rising to walk to the kitchen. She's been a lot more subdued since the crisis, less likely to demand, and a little more hesitant to ask for things.

“I have the ingredients, but if you want it, you'll have to make it.” Shirou replies evenly.

Nazuna flushes while Michiru titters next to her. “I don't know how.”

“Then I'll show you.” Shirou says.

Shirou has not had to teach anybody to cook for a long time. He knows so many lost recipes that for a while, he worked with those in the business of keeping traditions alive to teach them. But he forgets them all himself too, eventually, or he outlives the ingredients as they once were. Sometimes it's jarring how different tastes can become through the years. And that's not even mentioning the dishes best left forgotten.

It's a blessing and a curse. Sometimes he wakes up, craving a meal from the edo period that he can no longer recall how to make. It's torture. And perhaps a sign he should have preserved them while he had the chance.

That's of no consequence here though, as kani salad is hardly an archaic or obscure dish from time long passed. He wonders if he'll remember it in a hundreds years time, two hundreds.

Instead of dwelling on it, he easily goes through the motions of it with Nazuna, showing her the techniques and how to prepare the ingredients. She's an excellent student, and Shirou thinks she picks it up well enough the she could make it on her own now with the recipe in front of her.

Michiru watches on, with a strange look on her face, as she's in charge of the rice. She seems pensive, perhaps a little thoughtful, and she's quieter than usual as they eat dinner. _He's_ the one who ends up carrying conversation with Nazuna, chatting with her about Melissa and Gem, how she's enjoying living with them. Apparently Michiru and Nazuna were going to sleep over at Nina Flip's house sometime next week. Which was news to him, but Michiru was a responsible girl. She could do what she liked.

After dinner, while they cleaned up, Michiru approached him in the kitchen.

“Hey.” She says. “Could you teach me some recipes sometime too? I bet you know a bunch, since you're super old.”

Shirou's breath catches in his throat.

“Of course.” He says after a moments hesitation. “I'd love to.”

There's been a lot of change, in Shirou and Michiru's relationship since she'd moved in. But the more things changed, the more they really stayed the same.

Meaning, she wasn't any less bullheaded or annoying on the job.

“You're so dramatic.” He griped, as they'd walked out of the mayor's office one morning. Michiru had just gotten done with some diplomacy training from a specialist recommended by the mayor, in preparation for the opening of the city (an event which Shirou couldn't really decide if he was dreading or not). She'd managed to catch the tail end of his conversation with the mayor, and emphatically decided she'd join him on his silver wolf duties.

Duties. They weren't _duties_. They were just jobs.

Sometimes, he thinks people forget that he isn't _actually_ a god, or a mythical guardian. He really is just some guy stuck with immortality and a chip on his shoulder the size of Japan.

“Dramatic?” Michiru echoed incredulously. “ _You're_ calling _me_ dramatic?”

“Yes. Because you _are._ ” Kuro shuffled on his shoulder, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughing.

“Shirou, the first time I met you, you were crying in the middle of a plaza for the safety and happiness of Beastmen. People think you're a god- You have a _mythos!_ You are _beyond dramatic._ ” She argues, poking him in the chest.

“Wha- I- w- what?” He splutters. “I was _emotional_ , ok?”

“Mm.” She hums in mocking agreement.

“Another word out of you and you're staying home.” He grouches, and she breaks out into laughter.

“Barbary.” Shirou asks, sitting hunched over in the cafe booth. “Do you think I'm dramatic?”

Mayor Rose looks him dead in the eye.

“Yes. Because you _are._ ”

Ok, this time Kuro is _definitely_ laughing at him.

They're on a job when it happens.

There isn't much Shirou can't handle, being immortal and all. He's a talented fighter, with the raw brute strength to back it up, and time has dulled how pain phases him. Unfathomable years of combat experience and training. He's the lone soldier, the lone wolf. Atlas, with the world on his shoulders, and the burden to carry. So he throws himself into the fight like a wolf possessed and worries about his safety afterwards. He heals so quickly sometimes it's like he isn't even injured.

Michiru has exactly none of these things.

She still jumps in front of him.

“That was beyond dangerous.” Shirou growled at her from where she lay in the infirmary. “It was stupid, maybe even the most stupid thing you've ever done.”

“I wasn't thinking!” She protested, clutching her arm where it was bandaged. “Besides, the bullet barely grazed me- it would have hit you full on!”

“I'm more than aware you weren't thinking Michiru, because otherwise you'd remember that I _heal_. I am never hurt for more than a day, Michiru, not really. I would have been fine.” He keeps his voice low, careful not to yell, but he knows she can tell he's angry by the way he's coiled and tense. “You on the other hand, are extremely lucky that bullet didn't hit your bone and shatter it!”

“I won't apologise.” Michiru argued proudly, crossing her arms and when wincing when she jostles her injury. “I just jumped in- yes, without thinking- when I saw it was going to hit you, and I don't regret it.”

Shirou goes completely still, eyes flashing.

“You could have died.” He says, voice deep and intense.

“I get that.” Michiru looks a little offended, and Shirou doesn't think she has any right to be. “But I didn't.”

“I don't think you do get it, actually.” Shirou begins. “If you had been a fraction quicker, than bullet could have hit you anywhere. Even if it didn't hit you somewhere fatal, you could have easily bled out. If I didn't get you to a hospital immediately, that nice little wound you've got there could have been infected. In all of those scenarios, you're dead. I would have had to watch you die in horrifying amounts of pain and then it would be my job to carry you to the hospital. Or rather, your corpse. And it would be entirely my fault.”

Michiru sits silent on the bed, something like shame working onto her face. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes but Shirou needs her to understand this so that she never does anything like it ever again.

“If that bullet had hit me, I would've been completely and utterly fine. Maybe even within the day, depending on where it had got me. And, quite frankly? Even if that wasn't the truth, there is not a _world out there_ were I would rather you die than me, ok? So don't do that again.”

“So you'd expect me to just let you die?” Michiru gasps.

“If it meant keeping yourself alive, Michiru? Absolutely.” Shirou nods.

“No-” Michiru begins to protest, but Shirou cuts her off.

“Listen to me, Michiru.” He talks over her, and she falls quiet. “I have been on this earth for a very, very long time. You are more than a child to me. You deserve to live a long, happy life, and with any luck, you will. But the reality is? I will see all of it. I will watch you grow, and age, and change, and throughout all of it, I will stay the same. And then at the end of it, I will watch you die. There is no getting around that. Because unfortunately I'm going to live forever, and unless something extremely drastic happens, chances are you won't.”

“I never thought about it like that.” Michiru admits, breathing a little heavily. He hopes she's not about to hyperventilate, but he kind of feels like doing that himself.

“It's not something I like to think about either.” He admits, making his voice a little softer. “But that doesn't make it not true. Still, over time years mean less and less to me, but I would still like to spend as many as I can with the people who mean something to me. I'd ask you _not_ to foolishly cut that short for something as stupid as saving me a days pain in the long run. And even if I miraculously lost my immortality somehow, I've lived my fair share, ok? You still have a lot more left to do, understood?”

Michiru looks like she's about to cry, and for a very fearful second, Shirou thinks if _she_ starts crying, _he's_ going to start crying, and that will just be a whole ordeal. Thankfully, she does not burst into tears on the spot.

“Understood.” She nods, voice tight.

“Good. Now, they're keeping you overnight for observation; do you want me to get you anything from home?”

“Uh.” Michiru looks at him sheepishly, sadness in her eyes. “I think I'll call Nazuna and ask her to get me some things. I don't really wanna be alone right now.”

“Ok.” Shirou says awkwardly, setting down in the chair by her bedside.

And it seems that's that.

The doctors say it will probably scar.

It will be a reminder for Shirou, and her. A reminder for Michiru to never ever do that again- and a reminder to Shirou that his number one priority is keeping her safe.

“I have a job today.” Shirou leant against her door frame. “I should be back for dinner barring a city wide crisis. Will you be ok on your own?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine.” Michiru bit her lip. “But I do have a question.”

Michiru sat in her bedroom in her Pyjamas; a pair she had bought almost immediately on arriving, covered in strawberries. Pink, like her room. She sank back into her comforter, surrounded by teddies given to her by her well wishing friends- the get well soon cards that accompanied them still littered her dresser. Shirou idly noticed that after he had moved the TV into her room for while she was recovering, she had covered it in fairy lights.

She was just a girl. Ferocious and determined, never to be underestimated, but still painfully so young.

“What's your question?” He asked, fearing the answer. He had a feeling he knew what it was.

“When I'm better,” She asked, mulishly not pointing out that she already _felt_ better like she had for the past couple of days. “Will I be able to join you on jobs again?”

A pause.

“No.” Shirou replied, voice already tired.

“Oh.” Michiru blinked like she hadn't expected the bluntness. “Why not?”

“What do you _mean_ why not?” Shirou growled a little, and he belatedly hopes she realises he's not angry at her despite the posturing. “I think it's fairly obvious.”

“Getting hurt is a hazard of the job though.” She bristles, raising her back defensively.

“Yes.” Shirou says a little condescendingly, because reluctantly becoming a father figure didn't magically not make him an asshole. “That's the point. I don't want you hurt.”

“But-” She begins, but Shirou cuts her off, because again; asshole.

“We already went over this Michiru. You told me you understood in the hospital room, were you lying?”

“No, of course I wasn't!” She looks a little offended, and Shirou may have crossed a line. “But that was about taking shots for you, not about stopping going with you all together!”

“I'm not willing to risk your life any more than I already _have_ Michiru.”

“Well this is _my_ life! And these are my choices!” She raises her voice but doesn't shout, though she might if she continues to get impassioned like this. “I just want to help beastmen and I can do that with you!

“I know!” Shirou gets a little close to shouting himself. “But _I_ just want to keep you _safe_. You're doing plenty to help beastmen with your job with the mayor, where you do not get _hurt_.”

“You can't tell me what to do like this.” Michiru, makes like she's about to get out of bed, but one glare from him shuts that down real quick. That just makes her angrier, but Shirou would rather have her angry at him that further stressing her injury.

“I think you'll find I can.” Shirou fully growls, the wolf in him beginning to get agitated. This quickly got out of hand.

“ _You're not my fucking Dad, Shirou!”_ She finally yells, and she may as well have struck him. Shirou steps back, speechless. “Stop pretending like you are.”

He stands there silent, completely at a loss at what to do. He doesn't have any right to feel upset; what she said was objectively true. He's nothing more than her acting guardian- she has real parents out there, who love and care for her better than he ever could, and with any luck they won't have to bury her. Still, the hurt pangs in his chest. He can't help it.

Michiru breathes heavily, and when he finally builds up the courage to look over to her rather than listlessly staring at the floor, she sees that she's begun crying, and another entirely new bolt of pain makes it's way to his heart.

“Michi-” He begins, but it's her who interrupts him this time.

“Get out.” She cries. “Get out, get out, _get out_.”

He leaves, shutting her door behind him and tries not to cry himself.

He isn't her father, of course. But he didn't expect it to hurt so much.

He goes on the job himself. It is incredibly violent, and the perfect stomping ground for misplaced aggression.

Mayor Rose gives him a concerned look, but in the end, she doesn't ask. So he doesn't tell.

He's a little tired of getting all these judgemental looks after a millennia of people who never cared about him. Not like this.

It makes him a little sick to his stomach, and a thousand years worth of blood sticks to him in flashes.

He doesn't deserve their concern. But judging by the look on the Mayor's face, he has it all the same.

He goes home. He's not surprised to find the house empty, not even a note to assuage the worry he isn't entitled to have.

Shirou is admittedly moping and eating okayu for dinner when he hears a knock on the balcony. No one else usually enters a couple stories up, so he knows who it is as soon as he hears the rapt out tune.

Michiru stands sheepishly behind the french doors, not quite smiling but not as upset as she was when she'd left. He opens the door fully, not caring about letting the heat out.

“Hey.” She says, voice tight. “Can I come in?”

“This is your house.” Shirou raises an eyebrow, and doesn't miss the way Michiru untenses before she walks in.

“Right.” She replies, unsure like that might have changed (it hasn't). “Okayu, huh? I usually prefer or konomiyaki, or like, tempura or something when I'm going for comfort food.”

“You can't prove it's comfort food.” Shirou allows himself a small smile when Michiru shoots him a look. They're falling into their regular banter easily, like nothing ever happened; but maybe that's not right. Maybe they _should_ talk about this.

“I'll make you some shogayu if you feel like having a chat though?” He offers the familiar drink as an olive branch; he knows she likes it when she's feeling terrible, and well, it's not like this conversation will be easy.

She breathes out a sigh. “Sure.”

He begins the comfortable, mundane actions of making shogayu, waiting until she's settled at their dining table before saying;-

“I'm not trying to replace your parents, Michiru.”

“I know.” She winces. “You've done nothing but try convince me to talk to them.”

“I just don't want you to think that _I_ think that I can somehow-”

“I know, ok? You never really intended for any of this.” Michiru gestures around the apartment. The homely domesticity of it, her things scattered about amongst Shirou's bare necessity decorating. “But just because you don't mean to be my dad doesn't mean that you're not acting like it.”

Shirou flinches, and Michiru's ears flatten.

“Do you want me to stop?” Shirou ventures, and somehow Michiru seems to shrink even further.

“No.” She says, voice filled with shame. “I love my dad, but- I love- living with you too.”

The stilted gap where she nearly said I love _you, too_ , is not lost on Shirou, filling him with a warm feeling he doesn't care to name, but he knows better than to comment on it.

“I love having you here.” He replies, and he knows she grasps his meaning when a small smile catches on her face.

He finally finishes the shogayu and hands it to her quietly, and she mutters a quick thanks before holding the drink close to her chest and taking a long sip.

“Eventually, you are going to reconnect with your parents.” Shirou hopes his voice is as soft as he's trying to make it. “And I would be honoured to support you until then if you want me too. No matter what, if you need me Michiru, I am going to be there for you, even after your parents are back in your life, but only if you want it.”

“I want that.” Michiru's voice is tight. “But is that really fair on you? I- I have parents, and I have you?”

“I've lived a thousand years and never fathered a child, Michiru. For good reason, too. I never thought no matter how long I lived I'd be ready for this, and more so, I thought it would be cruel.” Shirou lets his age seep into his voice for just a moment. “I can't say I remember the specifics of every person who has ever been someone to me, I really can't. But I remember what every single one of them meant to me, and I know no matter how long I live, I am always going to remember what it was like to maybe have a daughter, and you gave me that, Michiru. So in my book? It's more than fair.”

Michiru is unabashedly crying by the end of his little speech as she takes another sip of her shogayu and sets the mug down on the table, before standing up to run over and throw her arms around Shirou. She ends up knocking him back slightly and very nearly winding him with the force of the hug, but Shirou can't find it within himself to complain.

He doesn't quite hug her back just yet, but he holds his hand to the back of her neck, keeping her close and safe.

“I- I,” She gasped through her tears. “I want to stay here.

“I'd like that too.” Shirou's heart was in his throat as he choked out the words. “For as long as you need it.”

“I don't want to move out of Beast City with my parents either.” Michiru sobbed. “I wanna stay here; I have a life here now. And as long as you'll have me, I'd like to live _here_ .”

“That sounds fine.” And no one can prove Shirou is crying when he says it. “Great, even.”

“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” She says, voice still wobbly. “And for being mean. You _are_ kind of my dad, I was just-”

“It's ok.” Shirou says as she dips her head into the crook of his neck where his scent is the strongest and most comforting. He tries to crack a joke to lighten the mood. “And if your parents aren't ok with it, I can always be the wine uncle.”

It has the intended effect, and her guffaw is muffled in his side.

“You don't even drink nihonshu, never mind wine!” She giggles, sniffling, and he takes his spare hand to wipe her tears away. “Oh my god, wine uncle, shut up-”

The rest of the night, the atmosphere in the apartment is warm, cosy, and familial.

The next few days, they're still awkward with each other, not so sure how to handle themselves now that they've addressed the elephant in the room, but it's... good. Peaceful, but not quiet.

Then, one night as he's walking to the kitchen for a glass of water, he hears smothered cries coming from Michiru's room. He doesn't even hesitate before knocking on the door and asking “Michiru... are you alright?”

He gets nothing in response and in turn, opens the door.

Her eyes are red with shed tears and it's clear that not even a couple of seconds ago she had been in the throes of a nightmare. His mind falls back to what she had said on the night _she_ had woken _him_ up from a nightmare, and knows what he should probably do.

He's never really been a hugging person, but then, he's never really been a father either. And of course there's always the chance he's massively overstepping his bounds since she specifically said this was something her _parents_ did for her.

But none of that matters when he draws her into his arms, an embrace for the first time, and it feels like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it!! this one was tough to write and fought me every step of the way, but i actually really like the end result! i hope u thought it was worth the wait <3
> 
> as always, you can find me at:  
> Tumblr: ace-corvid.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/ace_corvid  
> come yell at me!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, see you next time! And if you enjoyed this, a comment would really make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> im in bna hell so i promise this is not the last you'll see of me in this fandom smh  
> next part out at my earliest convenience!
> 
> you can find me at:  
> Tumblr: ace-corvid.tumblr.com  
> Twitter: twitter.com/ace_corvid  
> come yell at me!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, see you next time! And if you enjoyed this, a comment would really make my day!


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